


a particular type of lonely

by sunsetseas77



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Loneliness, Soft Ending, supportive girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetseas77/pseuds/sunsetseas77
Summary: Even if she can’t take on the entire weight, she can lighten it.“Lena waits, holding the woman she loves, the steady background noise of the city fading away as she tunes in just to Kara, listening to the steady breathing marred by a couple of hitches, an almost gulp, and at least one longer swallow.”
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	a particular type of lonely

**Author's Note:**

> A shorter piece - trying to get back into this

Lena wakes to quiet and fumbles to find numbers that tell her how very early in the morning it is. The coolness of one of her hands, flopped onto the sheets next to her where her girlfriend usually lies, is another indication that she is alone in their bed.

A turn of her head confirms it. A wider search finds that the clothes Kara was sleeping in are not scattered about as they are when she changes in response to a call for assistance.

Lena rises from the sheets, pulls on a thick, burgundy robe over her long-sleeved, button-down sleep shirt and dons a pair of slippers. The early spring weather they’ve been having, damp and overcast, has drug on through the entire week, contributing to a lingering chill outside and in. Dressed for it, she makes her way through the darkened apartment.

The view from their living area through the French doors reveals a lumpy shape perched on a balcony chair. Kara’s out there in her light blue sleep set, knees pulled up so her bare feet rest on the seat, her arms wrapped around them. Lena inhales deeply at the sight, her hand going to the knob.

Kara’s head tilts away from her contemplation of the sky and towards the door as soon as Lena starts to open it. Lena can’t make out her expression as she steps outside, but she’s certain she’s seen it before.

As the door closes, Kara returns to her examination of the heavens.

Her approach is unhurried, hands at her sides, respecting Kara’s space and giving her the chance to ask Lena to stop.

No words come.

They have a system for these times, not built completely from scratch given Alex had shared advice and bits and pieces of experiences with Lena from the innumerable nights, and days, where she’d been there for Kara as she struggled with everything inside. Both Danvers sisters had given Lena insight on how sometimes the decisions, the losses, the loneliness of it all bombarded Kara into despair, sometimes she fought back in silence, sometimes Kara sat with her struggles in an equal give and take to progress towards a different relationship with her past and present. The touch or the pressure she might need in those times, the presence that another should project – each element could differ from one incident like this to the next and the desired timing of engagement could often be deduced from Kara’s reactions.

“One of those nights?” Lena asks, voice low as she nears the chair.

Kara’s head takes its time to bob down then up to its initial spot. Lena notices a subtle slump, a loosening across her neck and shoulders.

Still no request to stop has been issued, and Kara’s physical tells aren’t telegraphing that she’s against Lena being here. Lena steps up to the back of Kara’s chair and leans down, wrapping her arms around Kara’s shoulders and gently squeezing with her arms, and with her hands as they land on Kara’s biceps. Kara’s skin is cold under her fingers from prolonged exposure, but Lena knows that Kara doesn’t really feel that.

A little more tension bleeds from Kara’s body with the hug, and one of her hands lifts to rest on one of Lena’s forearms. But she doesn’t speak, doesn’t shift her gaze. Lena senses Kara right in front of her, under her touch, and light years away at the same time.

Lena waits, holding the woman she loves, the steady background noise of the city fading away as she tunes in just to Kara, listening to the steady breathing marred by a couple of hitches, an almost gulp, and at least one longer swallow. The city’s ambient light is present but much less at the height of their apartment, and with clouds blocking out stars and moon the two of them are left mostly in the dark.  
.  
After a span of time that neither could quantify, Kara shifts her shoulders with a small turn towards Lena, eyes now on the wall of the apartment. She pats Lena’s arm with the hand resting on it.

Clearing her throat, she breaks her silence, “You must be freezing.” Her voice still harbors some roughness.

Lena answers with a noncommittal hum across Kara’s shoulder and the soft, blonde waves spread over it. She may be experiencing some discomfort from the cold in her fingers and the position is making her back ache a little but that’s irrelevant.

“Come back to bed with me?” she replies to the comment, an inquiry to place where Kara is at.

Kara’s head shake is as slow as the nod was. “Not yet. You should go, though.”

“I don’t need to,” Lena reassures.

Kara looks over to her. She still can’t make out the brilliant blue of Kara’s eyes, but she can see the openness, the crinkle of concern for Lena on her brow.

“I’m okay out here.” Lena knows that Kara’s answer is sincere, and also that she wants Lena to be okay, to get out of the dampness. “I just need a bit more time.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, giving Kara an opening to think about it further. 

“Yes,” Kara’s response is both immediate and unrushed.

“Alright,” Lena replies.

She rises and Kara’s hand drops to wrap back around her legs, joining the other. 

Lena’s hands stop their upwards journey across Kara’s arms and shoulders when her fingers come to rest on the top of each of her shoulders. Lena presses the heel of each hand in, traces a full circle around both of Kara’s shoulder blades and up again. She repeats it and is rewarded with a sigh, low and slow. Lena closes her eyes at the sound and realizes there’s a good chance that Kara is doing the same.

When she opens them several seconds later, Kara is back to gazing out from the balcony at the sky.

“Will you go flying?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

Both Kara’s hands come up to cover Lena’s and she gives a gentle squeeze.

“You’re starting to shiver. I’ll see you soon.”

Lena bends down to place a kiss on the top of Kara’s head.

“Love you,” she says, no strings attached, and slides her hands out from under Kara’s, which fall away. 

She heads back into their home, taking one last look at Kara before moving down the hallway back to the bedroom.

Leaving her robe and slippers at the bench at the end of the bed, Lena burrows back into the sheets. Finding the pillow that most smells like Kara, she wraps herself around it. Because of her love for pillows and the size of their bed, Kara will still have three to sink into when she hopefully returns.

Lena’s restlessness is defeated fairly quickly by the past week’s hectic work schedule and the dead-of-night hour, and she falls back into slumber.

She wakes to muted light this time, the persistent cloud cover through the window under renewed attack by the morning sun. A quick survey shows the sheets and pillows next to her are rumpled differently from when she fell back to sleep, and traces of Kara’s body heat remain on them.

Kara probably did her best to keep from disturbing Lena. Lena wonders whether she slept at all.

Shuffling out to the kitchen in her robe, she hears the coffee maker on the counter. Kara is on the couch in an ivory hoodie and a pair of grey joggers and grey socks with her legs pulled up beside her. A mug sits on the end table. Her lips twitch upward as Lena comes into view and Lena reciprocates the gesture.

She detours to the counter and pulls a mug from the cupboard to use. Lena may intentionally grab a bright blue favorite, the crest emblazoned on it a show of support.

“Did you sleep?” she opens with as she pours, glancing to the couch.

Kara is looking out at the balcony and she licks lips that are now set in a line. “A little. It was better after you came out. It wasn’t the worst night. But it was a harder one.”

Lena moves to the couch, fingers laced through the mug’s handle. She sits next to Kara but leaves some space.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She sips her coffee, passing the time while waiting for Kara to decide, throwing occasional glances her way.

Kara looks over at Lena in one such moment, shrugs, then drops her gaze again. “Krypton. My parents rushing me to the pod. The last look I ever got at my father. My mother’s face. Rocketing away from them, through the chunks of itself that the planet was blowing into the air as it died. Just running over and over through my brain. Like it does.”

Lena drops her free hand into the space between them palm up, leaves it there where Kara can see it in case it’s needed.

In less than a minute, Kara’s hand settles over hers and Lena interlaces their fingers.

“Thank you,” Kara says, sounding heartfelt and a little sad. “For helping. Every time.”

“Of course.” Lena thinks about it, reflecting on what more to say. She’s certain sharing could help, and she can do that for Kara in this moment.

“You know it’s not one-sided,” Lena continues, getting Kara to look over at her and meeting her gaze. “Remember last month when I laid on this couch all day and you sat with me and stroked my hair and queued up soothing instrumental music and told me stories?”

“The anniversary of Lionel’s death,” Kara fills in quickly, remembrance clear on her face.

“You did know. I wondered if you realized.” Lena gives a soft, self-deprecating snort and glances down to the floor. She decides to place her coffee mug down on it and ends up with her now empty hand on her knee, flexing around it. “But I couldn’t talk about it, even after. It hit so hard, for no particular reason. All I could think about was what if he had lived? Or if he had told me? Pointless questions that I’ve pondered before that lead to no answers. Things not even a member of the family I grew up in could answer or would understand. It just grabbed me by the throat that day and wouldn’t let go. And then after, I felt foolish for having felt at all. But I felt better when I thought about you sitting with me, not judging.”

Kara’s thumb is grazing the side of Lena’s hand, back and forth. Lena looks over to her again, a tight smile on her face.

“We each have our shit like that to deal with,” Kara breaths out the words, not the first time the sentiment has been expressed between them.

Lena nods, finds a genuine smile breaking through now to convey what she feels so deeply with Kara beside her, an abundance of connection and affection that buoys her. “But with you, it’s less lonely doing it,” she states, affirming their strength as partners through the shit.

Her statement provokes a light laugh from Kara, her eyes shining a little brighter at Lena.

With their hands still together, Lena lies back against the arm on her side of the couch, drawing Kara to stretch out next to her. She encircles Kara and feels her girlfriend’s hand come to rest on her waist as Kara nuzzles into her and answers, “That’s how it feels for me too.”


End file.
